Guest Info Plot & Events

Current Month 3.2591 A.R. 9th Interval

Southern Winds has plotted events roughly every OOC week. This means our story is ever evolving and Southern Winds is changing. Events for the current month are listed here, once you've registered for an account.

Our roleplay time is pretty fluid. We allow you to play anything that may have happened in the past, but not in the future, as events that may affect the entire weyr may ruin futuristic plots.

We list Flights, Clutches, and Hatchings for both Dragons and Flits here, as well as whers. There are Candidate events and classes and Crafter plots. A little bit of something for everyone.

Feel free to say hello, guesties! Registered members can request a colored name here.

Remember,
this holds no IC consequence and is only for fun.

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Welcome!

Hello and Welcome!

We are a mature, 9th Interval AU Pern. We've destroyed almost the entire planet in a catastrophic event. While we feature 2 new mutations, we stick pretty close to canon. We've Ranks, roles, and positions for just about anyone who wants to get involved, with a relaxed community. Play and post at your own pace. Swing by and say hello!

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Southern Winds uses a subaccount system to distinguish between Players and their Characters. So REGISTER with your Player Account Name and the admin will assign you your Character Subaccount once your character is approved!

Southern
Winds is a Mature Roleplay. This means we allow for sexual, violent
content that would be found in a struggling, 9th Interval Pern. Sex is
common place in the Weyr and terrible deaths are no stranger here. As
such, our players should be 18+. These themes are to be handled maturely
at all times.

Fisk couldn't help but worry about what had happened earlier that day. He supposed he was lucky to have been late to lunch that day, needing to finish off a few things from the morning practical class with the first year apprentices that he had been helping to oversee. Usually, that task was left to Masters, but as a Senior Journeyman, he simply wasn't allowed to say 'no' if a master asked him to take a class, especially considering it was in his area of expertise.

But apprentices were ratbags. And none of them had bothered to put any of their equipment away before they scattered at the end of the lesson. Therefore, Fisk had been clearing up half-finished nets and loose threads from all across the room, whilst everyone else had been in the Weyrhall beating each other up.

Not that he wanted to be there. He was honestly unsure what decision he would have made. Neither the riders nor the holders and crafters were in the right. Whomever through a punch was wrong, and whomever was shouting about slavery was wrong. And he knew that they had both been on different sides, or at least, from what he had heard.

As long as no one had been seriously injured, Fisk was content to continue to not make up his mind. It was Yinaya he was worried about. The fisher was honestly unsure whether or not this riot, and the acts of his fellow crafters, would affect her opinion of him, neither did he know whether she had been involved.

He would have been angry if she was. But was unsure whether it was because that meant someone else would have tried to hurt her, or whether it was because she put herself in the situation in the first place.

Regardless, he needed to know how she felt. Needed to know if he needed to... fix anything. If he could at all. This whole situation was a pile of herdbeast dung which he didn't really want to deal with. But he couldn't hide in his little love bubble with her forever. Sooner or later he would have to acknowledge how different they both were, and consider the consequences.

And so, he was pacing his little room in the crafter caves, hoping that she would come down to share his bed tonight. After all, without Rantasyth, there was no way he could get up to see her in her Weyr.

No matter that the entire day had been stupid after the supposed riot, the riders still had duties. Drills. An attempt at returning to order. For once, Yinaya didn’t mind it at all.

She wanted the sense of order and normal too.

It gave her an opportunity to sort through what had all happened. One moment she’d been eating peacefully, the next there was a mess of a fight. In that situation, Yinaya had fallen into the customary role of a Wingrider and had looked to her Wingleader for direction. That’s what a proper Wingleader did during moments of confusion and, well, crisis. She’d not jumped up as some of the others had but her eyes had found Z’tai almost instantly.

When he’d ordered Prairie Riders to sit and not partake, she’d done exactly that. Though Yinaya hadn’t been able to continue eating and watched the beginning of the exchange tensely, she did as she was told. Yinaya had not survived so long in Threadfall by disobeying her Wingleader. Not even when Z’tai himself got involved.

She’d had her orders. She remained in place, even grabbing the rider next to her when he’d wanted to help Z’tai. Their Wingleader didn’t need help. It wasn’t until she’d received a specific order otherwise – to get up, in pairs, and break up the mess.

The carefree, smiling, sweet Yinaya was gone. She moved quickly, efficiently, and with all the trained prowess a Rider had. She didn’t fight anyone – there was no fighting a Rider that had spent turns upon turns fighting every day to stay alive. The Holders and Crafters were a disorganized mess and went down easily. She’d pinned down a particularly angry woman who, when Yinaya had moved to get up, started struggling again. So she remained in place until the next order went out.

Lashings divvied out to those who had been a problem.

Yinaya had only moved when two Jungle Riders approached to collect the woman beneath her. She didn’t offer herself up for a lashing like Beach did. Yinaya felt no compassion for the Crafters or Holders being punished, she felt… nothing at all during the entire riot. She’d acted as she’d been ordered, witnessed the lashings, and remained until Z’tai ordered them out of the Hall.

That was the Yinaya of the Pass. A woman who followed orders, who understood that to survive there was to rules and a reason for them, and the entire riot had been… had gone against everything she’d worked during the Pass to preserve.

It’d been a long day.

Her way toward Fisk’s room was slow. She’d contemplated going up to her weyr instead but Rantasyth had refused. Physically refused. Stepping away from Yinaya so she couldn’t climb up and simply snorting at her. Making her own thoughts on such a decision quite clear. This wasn’t something Yinaya could run away from. Something she couldn’t put off. If she was going to be with Fisk, they needed to… at least talk about it.

Thankfully, she’d not seen him there. If he’d been in the fight, if he actually believed that the Riders treated the crafters like slaves, she wasn’t sure her heart could take it. Without bothering to knock, Yinaya opened the door. Not quite looking at him, Yinaya offered a soft smile. “Hey.” It was obvious she wasn’t sure if she was welcomed. Instead, she stood just inside. Her arms crossed loosely beneath her chest.

Fisk wished that he had known more about what transpired, that he hadn't heard such... disconnected reports from those awestruck and those angry, so much that he didn't know where the resentment ended and the truth began.

Rumours had spread fast through the apprentices and journeymen of the fisher hall that afternoon, from deaths of candidates, to the underhanded beating of a pregnant hold women, Fisk supposed that he had heard it all. And all extremes too.

Where really, the only thing he was concerned about was whether Yinaya had been hurt. Whether Yinaya had been there had... had something happen to her. And whether or not it had made her change her mind about them, about him.

He heard the door swing open behind him, and he stopped his pacing, taking the time to examine her from head to toe, for a mark, a single mark that would show that someone had done something to her. That this riot had hurt the one thing he cared about more than anything on Pern.

She looked... fine, he supposed. Unhurt at least, but it was the look in her eyes, and the defensive posture of her crossed arms that made his heart break, and he stepped forward to place his hands on either side of her face, forcing her to look at him, after that soft smile and her greeting. "Hey yourself." Was his simple reply, the smile he gave her, and the eyes that gazed into hers full of love and worry, but not anger or doubt.

"Come here." He said, pulling her towards him in a hug. "Are you okay?"

This was new territory. Dangerous, potentially painful territory. Yinaya had never been in a relationship before and she didn’t know what to do. The only reason she was there at all was because her dragon refused to allow her to run away. A childish wish, really, but the fear of the unknown, of what Fisk might think of her, was a very real thing.

A potentially painful thing.

She’d never felt so oddly vulnerable as when she stood, waiting, as he looked her over. What Yinaya wouldn’t have given then to be a mind reader! To know his thoughts! Was he upset with her? The riot? The situation? When he moved, she nearly flinched from how tense and wound up she was making herself.

Breathe, her dragon reminded her, gently.

Yinaya took a deep breath just as he directed her attention to him. Then he smiled. Could he be angry at her and smile at the same time? That was impossible, right? No one could do that. Her heart skipped a beat and, when he said ‘come here’ – exactly what she needed him to say, but hadn’t known – Yinaya moved to cling to him. She buried her face into his chest and felt her own throat tighten.

Yinaya was a strong, stable woman. She’d handled herself perfectly fine during the riot – or whatever that entire fiasco had been called. That hadn’t upset her at all. She hadn’t felt anything. Rather, the possibility that he might be upset had put her in such a state of worry now that she just… felt overwhelmed that he wasn’t. When Fisk asked if she was ok, Yinaya actually laughed softly. “Yes, yes. I am. I think?” She peered up at him, carefully watching him. “Are… are you… are we ok?”

"Always." He responded simply. They were completely different, from walks of life so far removed from each other, and they were still working out the kinks. Still a little tense if either one of them made the wrong move.

It was a relationship. One which, admittedly, Fisk hadn't been involved in for a long time, and never one with a rider.

"As long as you're not hurt. Then we're okay." Running his hands over her hair and planting a kiss on her temple he looked down at her. "You're... always going to be a rider and that comes along with doing what is required for you. I just... wish that it didn't mean putting yourself in harms way."

Fisk couldn't help but breathe a big sigh of relief, and pulled her back into him again. "I don't even really know what happened. I was still at the docks when it all broke out. Didn't hear about it until after."

Yinaya smiled all the more at his answer. It was all she wanted, after all. For them to be ok. Whatever that would mean for whatever life brought them. Was that what it meant to love someone?

Yinaya buried her face in his chest once more to hide the reflexive smile when he said ‘as long as she wasn’t hurt’. That hadn’t even been a concern of hers. She didn’t want to discredit people he might know or the attempt they had made to get their voices heard, but the ‘riot’ had been little more than a Weyrhall brawl that had ended very poorly for the Holders and Crafters involved. If they thought they were going to put up a serious fight against the Riders, it was going to take more of them. In a far more organized fashion.

Rather than somehow inadvertently insult Fisk, or the Holders or Crafters who were clearly upset, Yinaya simply said, “I wasn’t in any danger.” Which was the truth. She couldn’t begin to comprehend how a Rider might be in the Weyr, surrounded by other Riders. At least not when it came to something as silly as a ‘riot’.

When he admitted that he’d not been there, or didn’t really know what happened, she breathed another sigh of relief. Yinaya did not want to hear that Fisk had participated. Not that she thought he was the hot headed, brawling sort… But people could easily become swept up in such things. Reluctantly, Yinaya looked back up at him. “Do… you want to know?”

Fisk hesitated for a moment. To be truthful, when he had been talking of it not 5 seconds ago, he had been sure that he wanted to know. Wanted to know what actually happened instead of just being constantly in the dark, whilst speculation whirled around him. To be able to make up his own mind.

"Here," guiding them to a little loveseat to sit because his feet wanted to pace at the thought of having to imagine whatever had actually happened to Yinaya. Whilst he was pleased he had not been there to witness the disintergration of everything they had tried to build here on Fort Island, Fisk almost wished that he had. If just to know everything. To have watched it like a firelizard in the rafters, observe and not have to do anything.

But, it was simple. If he did not know, his mind would make up it's own story.

While Yinaya had been in the weyrhall, she honest enough to admit that even her perception of the events might not be entirely unbiased. What she had witnessed might not have been all of it, or even the start of it, but it’d been enough. More than that, orders were orders and she’d not change anything about what she’d done.

She easily followed Fisk’s guidance to sit and slid her arm through his. Maintaining contact. Now that things seemed settled between him, retelling what happened from her point of view didn’t seem likely to change that. Not to her, anyways.

“I’m not entirely sure how it started. Over by Jungle Wing’s table. Where it seemed a group of crafters and holders approached them. But I know the fight started there. I... I can’t say for sure who started it either, but the Wing is saying it was Jungle who swung first. But the insults started from the Holders. When the fighting broke out, my Wing was ordered to remain at the table. It was little more than a weyrbrawl, really. Not everyone wanted to get involved.” Yinaya wasn’t looking at Fisk. Rather, her hands were clasped together. Not wringing anxiously, just her fingers entwined. Almost relaxed as she recounted what she remembered. Not angry, or even upset.

Quite matter-of-factly. “I didn’t get involved until we were ordered to break it up. The Weyrwoman showed up...” And there was no question who the Weyrwoman was to Yinaya, but she could clarify if asked. “and lashings were ordered out to those who had caused trouble. Mostly holders and crafters. Some Riders.” Yinaya paused. Hesitated. She still wasn’t sure how she felt about what Beach Wing did. “Beach Wing, almost collectively, knelt to receive lashings too.” This time, she did shrug a shoulder and look at him. “Just one apiece, no matter what you might have heard.”